


Gothic

by okapi



Series: Your Extra Time and Your Kiss [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Bathroom Sex, F/F, Femslash, First Meetings, Genderswap, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, Physical Abuse, fem!Moran, fem!Moriarty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1505114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Moriarty and Moran meet for the first time as young women. Fem!Mormor. </p><p>Inspired by Barry M <a href="http://www.barrym.com/products/lips/paint/lip-paint.html">Lip Paint in Black</a>.</p><p>Please heed tags for potential triggers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gothic

Seb twisted the base of the lipstick.

“Do you have a tampon?”

Seb started. The lipstick clinked in the sink. She turned.

A girl was perched on the ledge near the ceiling. From Seb’s angle, the girl seemed almost suspended in mid-air.

“Pardon?”

“Do you have a tampon?” The girl kicked the top of the machine on the wall with a hollow thud. “Machine’s empty.”

“Oh. Umm.” She unzipped her purse. “Yeah. Here.”

The girl jumped down. She wore a slate grey shirt with black patterned tie and black trousers. Her short, dark hair shone wet in the flickering fluorescent light.

“Thanks.” The girl took the packet and slipped it in her trouser pocket. She approached Seb slowly, studying her with predatory dark green eyes.

Hyperaware and slightly hypnotized, Seb stilled. Like prey.

The girl was going to kiss her.

Or hit her.

Or both.

The girl moved closer, turning slightly, not touching Seb, and picked up the lipstick from the sink.

They both looked at the chipped black tint; then, their eyes met.

“Ridiculous,” said the girl. She twisted the lipstick closed, took the top from Seb’s hand, slipped it on, and put the tube in her pocket.

Seb realized the dots on the girl’s tie were actually _skulls_. She looked at the door nervously.

“What does he call you?” asked the girl, nodding toward the exit, “Pussy?”

“Kitten,” mumbled Seb. She cringed and stared at the neon-coloured laces of her boots.

“What’s your real name?” asked the girl, licking her thumb.

“Anne.”

Seb flinched before the girl’s thumb even touched her left cheek. The girl stopped. The thumb hovered, then moved to the right side of Seb’s face. The girl shook her head. “Try again.”

“Sebastiane.”

“What do you call yourself? In your head?”

“Seb.”

They smiled at each other.

The girl dragged her thumb down the center of Seb’s right cheek. She kept her other hand on the counter, between Seb and the door.

“Ridiculous,” said the girl, frowning at the pale smear on her thumb.

_On the contrary, pancake make-up hides a multitude of sins. Or just one, a multitude of times._

The girl’s eyes raked over Seb’s black dress, her black and red striped knee-high socks, and her clunky black boots.

“Ridiculous,” said the girl.

“I don’t know who you are, but if I’m so bloody ridiculous, just let me go.” She pushed against the girl. The two arms tightened around her slowly, menacingly, like a python squeeze.

“You are not ridiculous.” Seb smelt the sharp mint of her breath. “I saw the way you looked at his knife. I saw the way you looked at his cigarette lighter. I saw you tie a cherry stem in a knot with your tongue— _when he wasn’t looking_.” The tone was teasing, flirting, _charming_.

Seb blushed.

“Sometimes, my boyfriend,” she whispered, “fancies he’s a … _vampire_.”

They stared at each other and then burst into laughter. The girl’s serpentine grip loosened.

Seb hid her mouth behind her hand; the girl pulled it away gently.

Seb sighed, “Pretending to be a thrall is… _ridiculous._ ”

The girl nodded and added, “So’s this.” She tugged at Seb’s long dark hair. Seb pulled a couple of hair pins from her scalp, and the wig dropped into the sink behind her. She removed the nylon cap and ruffled her short platinum hair into a spiky halo.

They grinned at each other. Then, Seb’s face fell as she glanced at the door.

“He’ll wonder…”

“He’s distracted.”

Seb gave the girl a puzzled look, but let her lead her by the hands to the far stall. The girl slammed the door shut and pushed Seb against the wall. Seb’s purse hit the floor with a _plop!_

And then they were kissing. It was warm and wet and _wonderful_.

Seb was drowning.

_What was this? A joke? A fairy tale? A dream?_

_Aghh!_

With a claw grip on her short hair, the girl yanked Seb’s head back until it hit the wall. The pain echoed from the base of her skull to her left eye socket.

“Out of your head. Into mine.”

Seb’s eyes darkened, and her nostrils flared.

She felt something shift inside her. She felt…untangled? Untied? Unbound?

_Unleashed._

Seb growled. She jerked the girl by her tie and twisted them violently. She shoved the girl against the wall and pinned her.

The girl laughed.

“Finally.”

Rough, endless kisses. Teeth scraping lips. Seb bit and licked down the girl’s jawline. The girl unfastened Seb’s dress and pulled it down until it hung precariously on her hip bones. She ran her hands all over Seb’s chest and stomach. It felt like she was…cataloging, measuring, appraising. Seb closed her eyes and groaned.

Then, the caresses stopped. Seb whimpered, and her eyes flew open.

“Listen carefully.” The girl cupped Seb’s head in her hands. “I don’t repeat myself. Learn how to fight. Learn how to shoot. Get tough. Then, get tougher. I’ll be watching. Waiting. And when the time is right, I’ll come for you.”

“To do what?”

“Work for me.”

“As what? Your assistant?”

“I don’t _need_ an assistant. I need a right hand. A hide bearer.”

“And where do you suggest I learn all that?”

“Start with the army, but don’t stop there.”

“I’m not exactly mercenary material,” Seb giggled.

“Not yet,” the girl conceded, “But you will be.” Seb leaned down and bit the girl’s earlobe.

“Easy, Tiger.” The girl turned them; the sudden cold at Seb’s back made her shiver.

“I don’t think you want easy,” purred Seb.

The girl hummed and kissed the swell of Seb’s breast. She traced a nipple through the black bra.

Seb squirmed, pulling the girl closer. “This is insane,” she panted, “We've only just met, and you've already planned our lives together. My whole career. We don’t know a thing about each other. I don’t even know your name.”

The girl took the black lipstick from her pocket and drew eight letters from the undercurve of Seb’s left breast to the crest of her right hip.

“Mor—“

The girl put her finger to Seb’s lips and shook her head.

“So what do I call you?” Seb smirked, “Boss?”

Seb was not prepared for the savage kiss that answered her taunt. They clung to each other, mouths seeking and being sought.

_Ravenous._

Finally, the girl pulled away.

“Not the time or the place.” The girl gave her a half-smile.

Seb’s blood thrummed in her veins. She closed her eyes and rolled her head back and forth against the toilet wall. She heard the door of the stall squeak open, and shoes tapping on the tile. The tapping stopped. Then it got faster. And louder.

_Squeak!_

The girl slammed into her.

“Fuck time and place. I want you now.”

She flipped Seb against her, one hand squeezing Seb’s breast and the other cupping the front of her damp knickers.

“Sorry, Tiger!” she whispered in Seb’s ear, breathless, “I am so changeable. It’s a weakness in me. But to be fair, until today, it was my only weakness. ”

Deft hands rubbed and stroked and teased until Seb cried out and slumped, boneless. She turned in the girl’s arms and slurred.

“What’s the other weakness?”

“Idiot.”

The girl brushed her lips across Seb’s left brow. Pain mixed with afterglow. And it seemed… _perfect_.

The girl led Seb back to the sink, and with efficiency and speed, she went about setting Seb to rights. Like a doll, Seb let her. In minutes, her thrall persona had returned. Dark, long hair. Porcelain face. Black lips. Seb looked in the mirror, and, not for the first time in her life, wondered who the hell was looking back at her.

“How am I going to explain this?” Seb looked down at the black diagonal smear that spanned her torso. The girl pulled up her dress and tugged the sleeves straight. She slipped Seb's purse back on her shoulder. “He’ll see it when we…”

The girl fished the tampon from her pocket and held it out. Seb took it.

“Tell him you’re on your period. He’s not as enamoured of blood as he pretends.” A nervous laugh escaped Seb’s lips. The girl strode toward the door.

Seb dropped the tampon in her purse. She said resignedly, “He’ll be angry…”

The girl turned back. In the flicker of a viper’s tongue, green eyes glinted.

“Not for long. What’s his name, Tiger?”

“Carl. Carl Powers.”

 

 


End file.
